strangeunknownarbiter

[strangeunknownarbiter]

call him bubonic the way he plagues me

[strangeunknownarbiter]

THIS SHOW IS UNSTOPPABLE I STG

I wanted to say they're hanging from the same rope but one's a pike

[strangeunknownarbiter]

Comm for @schestokryl ♥

I'm dying how sweet they are 😭

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Well I could really use some help out of this crushing abyss of depression so

[strangeunknownarbiter]

y’all ever see fan art of a specific character and just

🤩

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Nice, I didn’t realize Hickey’s memoir was an audiobook.

yeah. i've got the wikipedia page for rat. on cassette.

[strangeunknownarbiter]

For real, I had to stop reading before I finished Chapter 2. 🥲

thanking god that the terror was adapted by a woman and gay man who respects women. dan simmons you should be in prisonnnnnn

[strangeunknownarbiter]

The first rule of violent trench warfare is to have fun and be yourself

[strangeunknownarbiter]

Not So Bad

“You gonna sulk all day or what?”

A muted thud from the left-hand lounge chair. A loud sniff as Dugan pressed, with no real impatience, for a response. “Headache again?”

Bucky let his hands slide down his face and opened his eyes, grimacing at the shaft of afternoon sun that had pushed its way through the living room window sometime during the past half-hour. Jesus, Stark needed to get proper blackout curtains over that thing. Bucky grunted out a negative and winced at the creak of complaint from his spine as he leaned back against the couch cushions, away from the light.

“Gonna go lie down on a real bed or sit here like a dummy?”

A noncommittal shrug.

“Want some coffee?”

A shake of the head.

“Some fresh air? We can stroll around, see if Howard’s got a wine cellar or something? You can’t stay here all day.”

A year ago Bucky would have snarled something about privacy and taking a goddamn hint, but he’d long since learned to distinguish the tones beneath Dum-Dum’s reprimands. The guy wasn’t dedicated to the art of intrusiveness, he was just incapable of communicating his concern in anything other than Duganisms. Bucky almost smiled but the corners of his mouth were too heavy. He just stared numbly at the surface of the coffee table. Mahogany? Rosewood? Polished and stained, not a single mark. Something expensive. Who gave a shit.

Dugan regarded him for a long moment, his breath hitching once or twice as he considered and discarded ideas on the Right Thing to Say, before finally landing on a decision like finding a dollar bill after rummaging through a junk drawer. He leaned back too, mirroring Bucky’s movements; tipped his bowler over his eyes, crossed his ankles, and laced his fingers together over his stomach.

The room was quiet aside from the sound of their slow breathing. Behind closed eyes Bucky slowly returned to himself as he tasted iron in the spot where he’d worried at the inside of his cheek; felt the sun warm his shins; heard Dugan clear his throat quietly and adjust himself in that tacky pink lounge chair. Bucky cracked open a glance at the guy in question, who looked like a boulder in a baby carriage, and felt a half-smile curl across his face.

This wasn’t so bad. Maybe an hour from now they could look for some wine before the fellas came back.

For now, just some rest.

[strangeunknownarbiter]

You know another thing I just realized?

When Collins is preparing for his descent to dislodge the ice, Franklin doesn’t speak until after Collins’s diving helmet is sealed. I doubt Henry could have heard Franklin’s bland, optimistic little pep talk.

Another chilling detail that contributes to Franklin’s lack of care, and the show’s overall sense of Wrongness.

[strangeunknownarbiter]

Rest in peace, George Hodgson, you would have loved “Transcendental Cha-Cha-Cha” by Tom Cardy.

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His hair is extraordinarily tousle-able, yes.

Henry Foster "hey if you're getting up to get a beer, can you tousle my hair a little bit on the way there?" Collins

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Y’all ever think about a young Alexander McDonald?

Throwback Thursday: a smol bean! A soft boy!! A most cinnamony of rolls!!! // Murder Rooms (2001)

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Keep making those playlists, y’all. I enjoy seeing what music you associate with your blorbos. ❤️

[strangeunknownarbiter]

[strangeunknownarbiter]

Is anyone else having a weird problem with their Inbox? Mine says I have numerous Asks but when I click it, it’s empty.

[strangeunknownarbiter]

I genuinely don't understand why The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas is such a popular learning tool for the history of the Holocaust. It is such blatant historical revisionism to keep kids comfortable. The Holocaust is inherently uncomfortable. You shouldn't be comfortable discussing the slaughter of millions. There exists so much child-appropriate testimony... there is so much literature that expresses the suffering of the Jewish people without being explicitly gorey... and we choose to use one where a nazi benefactor is the main character. I don't care that he's a kid, it's still irresponsible and lazy. When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit is a middle-school-appropriate example. When I was in primary school my first exposure to the Holocaust was through curated extracts of Anne Frank's diary. There are so many resources out there that connect to kids and don't end with them doing the Hitler salute in the hallways as a joke because they understand the gravity and personal impact of genocide.